I had asked the husband to come over for lunch New Years Day. He likes celebrating New Year, but had been too poorly this year to go through with his plan to spend it in London, which was why I’d asked him over. I have long gone off New Year: too many rancid ones where a fun drink to welcome the New Year became an abusive week.

New Years Morning I really struggled to get up. Of course I did get up … and I managed a New Years Run (that’s a thing I’ve done for years now). Then there was the call to my dad.

Next I had to clean the house. Dust and vacuum. I hate vacuuming: the noise is intolerable. My new vacuum is a lot quieter (when it works).

Then I had to prepare the duck legs. I seared them in a pan, then fried some shallots in the fat, before adding red wine, blackberry jam, and a mix of chicken and vegetable stock. Potatoes and parsnips were prepped and parboiled and the sprouts peeled and exorcised (the little cross in the bottom to help them cook).

To try and lift my mood I asked Alexa to play ABBA. Excellent choice!

I had things timed a little too well: he arrived just as the food was ready. As I am making the final preparations for lunch he told me that I had worried him the other day when I’d not replied to his message promptly.

All I could think to say was “I was out”. I was actually out with my Rope Master, but I didn’t feel that I could say that – the tears in his eyes confirmed that assessment. He took himself to the end of the garden to cry. I just got on with things.

I felt cold and unemotional inside. I was sad that he was so upset because I have never liked him upset. Maybe I have done all my crying over so many years that I have nothing left.

Over lunch he looked so upset. He said he enjoyed the meal though.

After I cleared up the lunch things, we started watching a film. I said that we could watch something else or he could talk if he wanted to. A serious offer: I wouldn’t make it if I wasn’t serious – and I thought I could cope. After fifteen minutes he asked to stop the film.

Again I am not completely clear on what he said – my brain started its usual fucking shutdown as soon as he started talking, despite me throwing all the breakers to try and keep the lights on. The effort is exhausting and I wanted to go to sleep.

It was a rehash of the great coming out. He felt betrayed by the dark fantasies and that I had kept them from him. “Blindsided” is the word he has used so often. I told him that all I had ever wanted was to be held and told everything was going to be alright – even though I couldn’t give any reassurance myself. I know that was unfair of me.

I remember that I said that I have never felt there was space for my feelings in our relationship, and I reminded him of something I’d said not long after I took the overdose: “I can’t even have mental health crisis to myself.”

I have done it very badly, but my focus was always protecting and taking care of him.

He did accept me – and all things considered it didn’t take long (months we’re talking – some people go years and never get it), but it did take time and during that time I adapted to not having his acceptance. And his anger never subsided. Hugs, which had become rare in our relationship and had almost never been instigated by him, disappeared completely. I had the words and physical tokens of acceptance (and these are important), but I did not feel acceptance’s warmth.

I was getting preverbal, so I was glad when he thanked me for listening and talking. I hope that it helped him.

It took me a while to come back to myself, but the old mask wasn’t far away and slipped right back on. I remember saying to him that “We are just a couple of lost boys”, which he didn’t quite understand but didn’t question.

Thinking about it now I realise that I meant that it had been us two against the world, belonging to each other – and that I feel the gut-wrenching ache of separation too.

But I never said that to him and I do not know whether I should.

Slowly, the heaviness passed and we watched some trash New Years telly together before he said that he wanted to go. I gave him a lift: it was bloody freezing!

When I returned to the flat I put my warm dressing gown on, took my contact lenses out, and put my ugly bottle-bottom glasses on.

I unwound and unmasked.

And cuddled the dog.